Chronicles of Alexandra Cabot
by Rosefern
Summary: A series of drabbles about Alexandra Cabot. Finished.
1. No One

Title: Chronicles of Alexandra Cabot  
Author: Rosefern  
Rating: PG  
Disclaimer: Law & Order: Special Victims Units and all its characters belong to NBC and Dick Wolf.  
Warnings: Pretty angsty.  
Summary: A series of random pieces about Alexandra Cabot, post-Witness Protection.  
Spoilers: "Loss", "Ghost"  
Author's Notes: Enjoy!

**1. No One**

-Alex POV-

I walk down the streets of New York once again. It feels different, yet the same. People say the city is always changing, but it's so subtle you don't notice it. Before, I would have taken a taxi, but not now. Now I want to see the city, smell the city. As I near the stationhouse, my breathing gets faster. I take a couple of deep breaths, and say to myself, in my best prosecutor voice, _It'll be fine. It will be fine._

I open the doors, and walk up the stairs, everything feeling wonderfully familiar. I walk fast, and no one notices me. Not like they would. With the black hair dye, and green contacts, you can't tell it's me, unless you really look.I'm standing in front of the doors to the squadroom. I'm nervous, even though I've been waiting for this since they told me I was free to go.

I gather up my courage, and push through the doors. Olivia and Elliot are sitting at their desk, pouring over paperwork. Neither notice me come in. Munch and Fin's desks are empty. My heart skips a beat, but I look closer, and breathe a sigh of relief. Their nameplates are still on the desks.

"Hello," I say tentatively.

They both look up. Olivia stands up, and says,

"I'm Detective Benson. May I help you?"

There's no sense of recognition in her eyes at all. My heart breaks. Maybe Elliot will help.

"Is Captain Cragen available?" I ask, directing the question at him.

"No, he's out," Elliot stands up and says, "but you could leave a message for him, if you'd like." No emotion in his eyes either. My heart aches.

"No, but thank you. I'm sorry I interrupted you," I say, and hurriedly leave.

I run down the steps at a brisk pace, trying to hold back the tears that are threatening to spill from my eyes. I rush out into the cold New York air. I hail a taxi, get inside, give the driver the address of my hotel on the other side of town, and sit back.

_They didn't recognize me. How could they not recognize me? My best friends don't recognize me. _

_Maybe they've forgot about me. Maybe they're perfectly happy without me, and don't need me coming back, and screwing things up. _

_Maybe if I dyed my hair blonde again, and took out the contacts…_

_No, I won't. If they didn't recognize me now, they probably don't want me back. I'll just hop on a plane, and fly somewhere. I guess…I guess you really can't go home again. _

The taxi stops. I get out and hand the driver a wad of cash, not caring about the amount. I run up the front steps of the hotel, brushing past the doorman. I take the elevator up to my floor, reach in my purse, and hastily grab my key. I slide it in, and open the door. I sit down on the bed, tears streaming down my face.

-Back At The Precinct-

-Elliot's POV-

"Hey, El," Olivia says, looking up from her mountain of paperwork.

"Yeah?" I reply, meeting my partner's deep brown eyes.

"Didn't you think that there was something…off…about that woman that dropped by here today?" Olivia questions, as she gets up and walks around to my side of the desk, and perches on the tip.

"Yeah, I guess. But it is New York, Liv."

She laughs. I missed hearing her laugh. "True. But, for a minute there, I could have sworn it was Alex."

"Liv, it couldn't have been. The feds have her locked away in the program."

"I know. I know." She replies.

I stand up, and sit next to her on the desk. "I see her, sometimes." I say. "In a crowd, or at the mall. I see her face, but when I look again, it's gone."

"It happens to me, too." Olivia confesses. "A lot, at first. Less now, but it still happens sometimes. I think it's because we don't know where she is, and she could be right under our noses, and we wouldn't know it."

There was a moment of silence, and then Olivia speaks.

"I miss her."

"I do, too." I say.

-At The Hotel-

-Alex POV-

_I miss them, _I thought_. I miss them so much._

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Please tell me your thoughts on this. Is it great? Do I suck horribly? Should I continue? Do tell.

-Rosefern


	2. Manhattan

**2. Manhattan**

I was settling into my new life pretty well. I was Catharine Whitman, a law professor at a North Dakota University. I was lonely, though.

I told this to my WPP officer, the one that came to check on me every week. His name was Matt, and was young, and cute. He suggested I get a dog. I immediately balked at the idea. There are pet people, and non-pet people. I was the latter. Over a couple of weeks, though, I warmed up to the idea. Maybe it would be nice to have something to come home to.

I went to the animal shelter, and explained to the woman at the front desk what I wanted. I said I didn't want a yappy poodle, or a slobbering Saint Bernard. She said she had a dog in mind that would be perfect. I followed her through the hallways of kennels filled with barking dogs.

We reached the last kennel. Inside, there was a Golden Retriever who was lying forlornly on the floor of it's cage.

"What's his name" I asked.

"_She _doesn't have one." said the woman.

I walked into the kennel and knelt down by the dog. She perked her head up, and looked at me with dark brown chocolate eyes. I was hooked. The next day I was sitting on the couch, the dog on the floor by my feet. Ever since I brought her home the day before, she clung to me like glue. She was already trained, and very well-behaved. She needed a name, though. As I sat there on the couch, my eyes fell on the picture of Manhattan at night I had on my wall.

"Manhattan." I say wistfully, and the dog immediately perks her head up.

"That's what I'll call you, then. Manhattan."


	3. Christmas

**3. Christmas**

Christmas was here. And I had no one to spend it with. Nobody. I didn't put up decorations, because who would see them? I didn't go Christmas shopping, because I didn't have anyone to buy things for. As I walked around my apartment, _No, _I thought. _Her apartment. Catherine Whitman's apartment. My apartment was back in New York. _As I walked around her apartment, with a glass of wine in my hand, I noticed the picture on the mantle. It was one of the few I had from my old life.

I took it down, and studied it. It was taken at the big Christmas ball the NYPD and the DA's office always held. I was in it, as was Cragen and Huang, and Munch and Fin, and Elliot and Olivia. We were all pretty smashed, and having the time of our lives. The holidays were happy that year. We were all so happy, dancing and laughing and drinking.

Elliot was in the center, his right arm around Olivia, the other around me. Munch and Fin stood off to the right, and Cragen and Huang stood off to the left. We all were smiling and laughing. It's hard to believe that, six months later, I was in the Program.

Christmas was going to be so dull this year, not having anyone to spend it with. I missed them so much, all of them. I passed by the window, and caught my reflection. A woman I did not know, with black hair, and green eyes stared back at me. I raised the wine glass to the reflection.

"Merry Christmas, Alex," I said, and downed the glass.

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	4. Love

**4. Love**

His name is James.

We met at work.

He asked me out for dinner.

He's nice, funny, and a great conversationalist. Not to mention good-looking.

He is the perfect gentlemen.

We had been dating for about a month.

I invited him to my apartment.

We made love.

He made me breakfast the next morning.

We drove to work together.

That was six months ago.

I think I love him.

I know he loves me.

He told me one night.

But how can he love someone who doesn't exist?

How can someone who doesn't exist love someone?

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	5. Night

**5. Night**

My apartment occupies the penthouse on the 21st floor of an upscale apartment building in San Francisco, California. It's so different from New York, I can't stand it.

I miss my old life.

I miss my friends.

I miss my family.

I miss my job.

I miss my apartment.

Sometimes, I go up on the roof just to think, to be alone, and think. Sometimes, when I'm up there, I can just close my eyes, feel the cool breeze, and I can almost make myself believe I'm home in New York. Almost. One night, I was up there, and thinking. I thought about how it was the five year anniversary of closing a major case. After the case, Elliot, Olivia, Munch, Fin, Cragen and I went to Mulligan's for drinks. It was fun, laughing and joking and celebrating.

I remembered that as I sat up there. I closed my eyes, wrapped my jacket tighter around my shoulders, and pretended I was back at the bar, joking with my friends. I envisioned them, sitting on barstools, various drinks in front of them. It appeared they were all sitting in front of me, and I was watching the scene play out from an invisible point of view. I smiled, and opened my eyes. They disappeared, and I was left staring at the Golden Gate bridge, bright and shining in the night.

I looked out into the darkness, and I swore I could hear my friends laughs resonating through the sky from far away.

But maybe it was only a memory.

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	6. Why

**6. Why**

Why did I have to be the one to take that case?

Why did I have to be so stubborn?

Why did I get to be the one Velez picked to kill?

Why did I get shot?

Why did I become a candidate for the Program?

Why did I get stuck being an insurance agent?

Why did I have to live in Middle-Of-Nowhere, Wisconsin?

Why did I meet someone who I love, but have to lie to?

Why? Why? Why?

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